


Fa'afafine

by intergalacticbooty



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bigender, F/M, M/M, Minor Slur Usage, Nonbinary Character, Samoan Culture, Seth is a bit of a dick, Third Gender, gender non-conforming, shield era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalacticbooty/pseuds/intergalacticbooty
Summary: Fill for the wrestlingkink meme for a fic surrounding those of fa'afafine gender."Fa'afafine are male at birth, and explicitly embody both masculine and feminine gender traits, fashioned in a way unique to Samoan society."





	

The floral pink sleeping top that Roman slide on effortlessly while readying himself for bed caused his new teammates to tilt their heads curiously.

“Running a little low on laundry, big man?” Seth commented, burrowing himself into the bed he was sharing with Dean. They both sucked at rock, paper, and scissors.

“No.” The Samoan replied, tying his hair up into a rather neat bun. Dean was more curious than anything else, probably even more than Seth is who snickered in reply, but decided not to question it.

They were going to debut tomorrow at Survivor Series, anyways, and haggling their powerhouse of a man over a goddamn tank top really wasn’t at the top of his mind. How they’d make a meaningful impact that would set the pace for their careers was of more importance.

Still, though, as Dean laid his head against the hotel pillow that he would categorize as almost too soft, he couldn’t get the thought of the pretty pink roses stretched over broad shoulders out of his mind.

They debuted without a hitch, though. And that meant drinks to celebrate.

“C’mon, Ro, don’t be a pussy, man.” Seth nudged him before he tugged their weird turtleneck ring gear over his own head. “I know you like wearing pink, but don’t be such a pansy. I’ll even buy the first round.” The Samoan visibly tensed at that and Dean himself kinda huffed out a disapproving noise.

He simply shrugged the younger man off, to which Seth huffed and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and some metal band t-shirt, stomping off outside of the hotel room.

“Well if either of you lames wanna meet me, I’m starting off at the hotel bar!” He called out.

Dean was game for drinks, certainly, but despite his preference to being a loner he knew they’d be stuck together for the foreseeable future. And that meant ‘team building’ activities and shit, as Regal warned him about. “Roman, ya sure you don’t wanna celebrate our debut? I mean…seriously, we kicked major ass, man.”

“Maybe if it didn’t involve me being ridiculed, I wouldn’t mind it.” Roman huffed out, laying back on the hotel bed.

“Seth’s uh, he’s just bein’…Seth. Dude ‘s always been like that, even in FCW.” Dean started to explain, trying not to dwell on what a pleasing picture Roman made, laid out on the hotel sheets, long hair sprawled behind him and creating a dark halo. “Don’t let him pickin’ on you for wearing a certain color ruin your buzz. He’s just bein’ a douche. I, personally, don’t give a fuck what you wear.”

The older sighed then, running a hand over his face before he looked over at Dean, clearly almost tired. “It’s not…it’s not just about the clothes, Dean. There’s a lot you two don’t know about me. You’ve only seen me in training, in my ring gear. So, maybe…maybe I was a bit hopeful in thinking I could keep my image just a certain way, keep who I am a secret to everyone in WWE. It’s hard for people in the Western world, in the States, to understand. And I just, shit…I don’t really know if I’m comfortable tellin’ you all that.”

Dean nodded, although he wasn’t quite sure what Roman was going on about. But he got it, not wanting to disclose everything. It’s not like Dean would just spill all of his bullshit on these guys, either. In fact he probably never would. “Alright, well, how’s about you get outta your ring gear, we go out for drinks, and the moment Seth says some dumb shit, I put him in a headlock, alright?”

“…alright.” Roman gave him a small, but honest smile.

As the days and weeks bled into a couple months, Dean stood firm on his words. They spent more time wearing workout clothes and ring gear together more than anything else, but whenever they went out for drinks, or turned in for the night, or had the rare day off, Roman would wear something pretty. Usually soft pinks, floral patterns, or some other ‘feminine’ clothing. Easy on the eyes and pretty. Sometimes Dean thought he wore make up and sometimes his hair was styled, too. He never asked or questioned, but more than once did he punch Seth in the shoulder or yank him aside before he even attempted to make a comment.

Meanwhile, Dean was pretty sure he was going nuts, because each time he saw him, it was like Roman became more…pretty. And Dean Ambrose didn’t find guys pretty. Hell, he didn’t find most women pretty. But something was entrancing him, drawing him in and the conversation they had after their debut still buzzed in the back of his mind. What did Roman mean by all that?

Dean would get his answer sooner than he could have hoped. One temper tantrum from Seth after their first loss on television, having been pissy because he was the one who had to tap-out later, and the two other members of the Shield were sharing a room without him.

For all of his backhanded ridicule of Roman, Seth sure was a prissy bitch himself.

Each were laid out on their own respective beds, Dean having smuggled in a couple six packs to elevate some of the headache he garnered from Seth’s whining the entire ride over from Smackdown. He was lost in his drink, only haphazardly watching the television before Roman spoke up.

He was dressed in a pretty lace camisole, soft grey sweatpants that hugged his thicker thighs and bottom just right. “I never properly thanked you, man, for, uh…always sticking up for me. Seth’s been shutting up more often. But I don’t think he’d ever have if it wasn’t for you. I appreciate it.”

“’s no biggie.” Dean replied, swallowing roughly as he looked over at Roman’s resting form. “…’m…I gotta ask, though. You…you told me we’d never understand, me and Seth, why wear what ya wear. What’d you mean by that?”

There was a large gust of air from Roman’s nostrils, the Samoan sitting up and crossing his legs before Dean mirrored him. “I’m still not…I’m not 100% sure you’d understand, Dean.”

“C’mon, Ro, I ain’t that stupid.” He snorted. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

“It’s not…it’s not about you being stupid.” Roman looked down then, nervously picking at the fringe of his shirt. “It’s hard…to explain, but I’m just gonna say it.”

Dean could tell this was a big deal, so he clicked the tv off, placing his beer down on the bedside table and leaning in close, gaping some of the space between their beds.

“My people, Samoan people…we believe there’s a third gender. It’s called Fa'afafine.” He started, Dean not even attempting to begin to pronounce what Roman just said.

But…third gender, what could he possibly mean?

“It’s when someone who is born male presents both masculine and feminine traits and sometimes behavior. Not considered male or female, Fa'afafine can manifest from households where there aren’t a lot of or no daughters in the family. Supposed to help around the house with the mother’s home duties. Or from other behaviors that the child shows early on, like interest in things Westerners consider ‘girly’.” He paused, not quite looking up at or meeting Dean’s gaze before he breathed out slowly. “It translates into ‘in the manner of woman’, but…it means more than that. Not identifying strongly as male or female, but…something other. Something different. A third gender.”

Dean nodded his head in comprehension. So, physically male, but mentally and in behavior something different. He wasn’t sure if he fully understood, but he think he could process it as Roman explained.

“I am…I’m one of these people Dean.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Cool?” Roman’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“So, um, do you want me to say ‘he’ when I’m talkin’ about you or nah?” It seemed like a natural question to answer.

Roman seemed taken aback and for a moment Dean’s stomach dropped. Had he done or said something wrong? Did Roman just confide a secret to him and Dean stomped all over it? “Some…prefer ‘she’ or ‘he’. But…since half my family isn’t Samoan, I tend to use he more often.”

“’s not what I asked….” Dean started, sliding off of his own bed and onto Roman’s. “…what do you prefer being called?”

The other tensed for a moment, Dean laying a hand over the Samoan’s own shaking one. “…I-I prefer he in public, but….i-if we’re alone, you can call me ‘she’.”

“Alright…” Dean said softly, before running his own fingers across the base of the lacy camisole. “…are all of these third gender people…are they all as beautiful as you?”

Her eyes shot up then, wide and confused for a moment. “What?”

“You’re beautiful, Ro, and…if she doesn’t mind…would she be willing to give me a kiss?” Dean poked his tongue out from between his teeth, toying with the ends of Roman’s hair. It all made sense now, how Dean had become so attracted to Roman so effortlessly. “Or does…she not like men?”

“She…I…like you very much.” Roman replied quickly, before leaning in for a soft, open-mouthed kiss. She became breathless, then as Dean slide his mouth down the side of her throat, leaving kiss after kiss, hands trailing up the soft material of her pretty sleeping shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to do a decent amount of research before writing this fic. The pronoun usage varied depending on the individual interviewed from those that I researched, so I used what I felt would fit Roman in particular. I tried my best to be as respect to Samoan culture.


End file.
